


No Heat & A Little Blood Loss

by blitzturtles



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 12:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19376599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blitzturtles/pseuds/blitzturtles
Summary: This feels exactly like the stupid shit Jason would do, and he’s, quite frankly, pissed that Dick managed to get himself in this situation. If it weren’t by sheer happenstance, then Dick would be dead before sunrise, and that makes Jason want to rub a bit of salt in the bloodied hole that Dick is currently sporting. In his bicep. Where holes don’t belong.





	No Heat & A Little Blood Loss

This feels exactly like the stupid shit Jason would do, and he’s, quite frankly, pissed that Dick managed to get himself in this situation. If it weren’t by sheer happenstance, then Dick would be dead before sunrise, and that makes Jason want to rub a bit of salt in the bloodied hole that Dick is currently sporting. In his bicep. Where holes don’t belong.

He says as much while he rummages through the cabinet under the sink in Dick’s bathroom. He can only hope that Dick is smart enough to maintain his First Aid kit, because he certainly isn’t smart enough to call for help when he needs it. Like when the heating in his apartment is out, and there’s a bullet hole through his arm. 

Actually, the heating being out is probably what’s keeping Dick from bleeding out, but that doesn’t stop Jason from being angry as hell. Even if the cold slows down the bleeding, Dick still would have been a popsicle by morning.

He finds the kit with a relieved, if somewhat manic, “Ha!”, though he reserves most of his excitement for the true test: whether or not there’s a needle and some kind of thread for him to work with.

A bit of digging alleviates his biggest concern. Now he has something he can close the wound with, but there’s plenty for him to do still. He should call Alfred. He knows he should call Alfred. This isn’t a problem he should be trying to fix on his own. Hell, it’s not a problem he should _have_ to be fixing.

But like attracts like, which is to say that Jason’s as much of an idiot as Dick is, so he makes his way back into the living room. Dick hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch. He probably hasn’t opened his eyes since collapsing on the overstuffed cushions.

“I hate you,” Jason mumbles more to himself than to anyone else. He crouches beside Dick and sets to work. Fortunately, cleaning and closing up bullet holes is kind of a specialty of his, so it doesn’t take long at all. 

The next problem is that Dick is rapidly approaching corpse in a morgue levels of cold, and there’s no way that Jason is carrying him halfway across town to his own place. Again, he could call Alfred, but he settles for the less reasonable solution and scoops Dick up. He cradles him against his chest and heads for the bedroom. 

Once he sets Dick down, he gets to work on peeling the rest of Dick’s uniform off. It’s frozen like the idiot wearing it, and Jason is already going to have a hard enough time warming Dick up without having to cuddle an apparently useless tactical suit. 

He tucks Dick in after he gets him down to his underwear -- and, really, how can Dick fit _anything_ under that suit of his?

Jason’s next task is to go and find every piece of fabric in the entirety of the apartment. That includes everything from bath towels to extra sheets to the ratty couch throw that Jason’s threatened to burn on more than one occasion. He empties the linen closet on top of the original boy wonder and stops to admire his work. If it weren’t for the peek of dark hair, then it would be impossible to tell anyone is under all that. 

Jason strips out of his own, equally cold clothing and hisses at the unforgiving air that surrounds him. His safehouse is sounding more and more appealing every second. Maybe he should leave the golden boy here to rot for all his brilliance.

The temptation of that thought doubles when Jason crawls into bed with Dick and presses close to him. “Jesus,” he breathes. He has to make a conscious effort to steady his own breathing. If anyone were to ask why, he’d blame the cold, but that’s so far from the truth that he half-expects lightning to strike. 

The truth is, he’s scared. Dick has barely moved since Jason arrived. He hasn’t woken up once. No half opened, blurry eyes to stare at him in confusion. No mumbled and incoherent questions. None of it, and Jason really should call Alfred, but he keeps hoping that what he’s doing will work eventually. 

A good two, sleepless hours pass by in agonizing silence. Jason can’t sleep for shit. He drifts off long enough to startle himself awake again, and every time, he does so hoping that the thing that woke him up is Dick, only to be let down again.

By the time another hour is rounding off, he feels the twitches of fingers. He goes very still, just in case he’s imagining the whole thing, but it happens again.

“Hey,” Jason breathes, more hopeful than he’s sounded in a long while.

Dick doesn’t respond with anything coherent, but he does whine. Low and in the back of his throat.

“Nice of you to join the land of the living,” Jason whispers. He reaches up to run his fingers through Dick’s hair. “Thought you were gunning for my title for a minute there.” Joking is good. Joking keeps him from losing his calm.

“‘s cold,” Dick grumbles against Jason’s throat. His nose presses against the soft skin there.

“Not as bad as it was earlier,” Jason says as reassurance. Still, he rubs his hands over Dick’s good arm to warm him up a little more. “Blood loss isn’t great for thermoregulation.”

Dick hums in place of an actual response. He snuggles a little closer and relaxes against Jason. It isn’t long until his breathing evens out.

Jason sighs in relief. His own body relaxes finally, and it isn’t long before he feels the exhaustion -- both physical and mental -- begin to win out.


End file.
